Thursday, February 3, 2011

Decorum Poem and Ice Princess Post Fussion Synthesis

Amerika American A-night-mare-ic:  Wicked ill humored grim stock homegrown a**hole fucted heads abound.  "They" maraud clamp down at every opportunity blurring propriety to the extent that it is savage base low always whining to some higher authority for backup and cover fire and justification.  Stories are warped embellished twisted crossing the proprietary lines as far as possible: fascist protocol and the form war takes today.  "Hell is other people." (Sartre) And locked into the machine grid be all.  "They" is ever present and yet nobody is "they."  This machine kills fascism?  The needle of cynicism enters the wound.  "If you want to get out alive/Run for your life." (Three Days Grace).  And even if This Machine did happen to kill fascism, what would that entail?  I mean what would the world be without wicked grim ill-humored people?  And what would the victor want with a bunch of "I am sorry" dreadnaught(not)s waiting for the opportunity to ream each another?  I just wanted to walk at Walled In Pond during the night.  And whats this?  I risk going to jail for trespassing?  One Draco just ran into the wall of The Citi-ah-dell hard.

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